Fooly Cooly Duo
by Caladchbolg
Summary: Despite Commander Amarao's attempts to conceal him, Naota has drawn the attention of the R&D Branch of the DII. For the past five years he has been in their secret custody. Too what end do they keep him? What are the consequences? NaotaKitsurubami.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of Gainax and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for entertainment purposes only and result in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.**

**FOOLY COOLY DUO**

_Mabase. An average little town where nothing extraordinary ever happens._

_There was a time where that wasn't so. The ruins of the old Medical Mechanica plant juts into the landscape forever in the distance, serving as a reminder to those who know the truth. The truth of just how close humanity as a living, breathing organism came to a sickenly quiet end._

_Shame that you can count the number of those who truly understand the significance of the monument on one hand. The rest of them wander about, content to keep their eyes to the ground. The strange events of the past are less than a memory to the people of Mabase. _

_The rubble has long been since swept away and all has returned to normal. In a sad little family bakery business is as poor as usual, printed papers scattered all over the floor reveal the owner's real passion: a trashy little minizine. _

_Children grow older. Day becomes night. A truck backfires in the distance._

_That's Mabase._

_At least, that's Mabase as I remember it. _

_I haven't seen a single brick of it in five long years._

**Introduction: Letter to the Editor**

Imagine, if you can, what it must have been like for me. That's the point isn't it, of a story? See the world from someone else's perspective? Live vicariously through the eyes of someone whose life is exceedingly more interesting than your own? It's nothing you should be ashamed to admit.

I had been through so much by that point, but you know all about that. My actions had saved my friends, my family, and the future of humanity itself. I had finally learned what it was to love another, and to feel the ache of that love being unrequited. Through all the madness I adapted to all the changes within myself and everything around me. I overcame my hormone-induced frustration and in the end I wielded the power of a god, power that no one entity should ever have at their disposal. Not Medical Mechanica, and certainly not the woman I adored more than any other.

I realize now that releasing Atomsk wasn't why I lost her. I lost her simply because I never had her. No one ever has, and no one ever will. Haruhara Haruko loves power, the ability to do anything and everything she wills precisely when she wishes to. It's the only way she can protect herself and inadvertently people like her—those who their lives so far off the reservation. I'm not bitter, five years of hell does a lot to diminish the pain of losing a first love. Makes it seem rather silly after awhile.

I had finally learned what it was to be adult, to be whom and what I am. "Be yourself," I'll be the first to admit it sounds like a cheesy slogan. However, I realized then and now that the act of _trying_ to grow up was in fact what made me self-consciously immature. By simply accepting myself for the age I was and letting time take its natural course, I had already surpassed in maturity every other adult in my life. It seems so simple now: by being a kid I had finally grown up. That is precisely why it was it was so cruel that I was taken when I was.

The kind of brutally efficient cruelty that only good intentions can bring about.

I was plucked from the streets after school not long after I began my first year at Middle School. As far I know my former friends and family consider me dead or missing. I feel like both. I was blinded and unceremoniously tossed around like a sack of potatoes, until I finally shoved into the cold, sterile facility. That was when the real horror began.

I am an anomaly I have been told. A genetic or even spiritual impossibility brought on by a combination of factors so twisted, overlapped, and complex that no blend of modern human science can even hope to begin to pick apart the strings. Humans of my unique persuasion normally could never have been expected until well over four millennia further down the trail of human history. What makes me so special you may ask?

Between the two hemispheres of my brain I am capable of sustaining an N.O. channel more powerful than any seen by human eyes. It's worth noting that human eyes now extend well beyond our own solar system and have begun to pierce the homelands of others. However, none other has been found able to rival my own. I'm the best kept secret to be found for light years in any direction, known only to select human circles and even fewer among the Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood. That makes an immeasurably precious commodity on an interplanetary scale.

I can barely contain myself.

With my N.O. channel my captors are able to draw out objects of varying sizes from distances ranging from next door to across expanses so vast that light years alone cannot measure them. I'm essentially an alien technological grab bag. Humanity has grown tired of being the primitive arm pit of the known universe, the butt of every alien species' joke from here to Alpha Centauri. With me they hope to skip millennias of bothersome evolution and technological advancement. They have any number of drugs, tools, and procedures now to extract technology from my head.

My sleep consists of no fewer than twelve hours of drug-induced nightmares. This is the time in which they extract, log, and carry away their little goodies to be picked apart for further study. I know this only because I woke once in the middle of the process, when the pain inflicted on my mind and body by an especially large object broke through the fog. I won't attempt to describe that sort of pure carnal fear and agony, it's not possible.

During the day I'm run through a variety of exercises designed to increase the power and efficiency of all sections of the brain. Classical literature, art, mathematics, the sciences, and even a variety of hand coordination drills to encourage ambidexterity. I have no idea where I stand education wise in comparison with others my age in the outside world, as I have never experienced it. My best guess however, puts me well beyond normality. At night I suffer, and in the day I suffer some more. I am a machine. The studies I am force fed are where I find the most peace, the rest drains my sanity with obnoxious hoops to jump. On top of this, I'm fed a constantly changing experimental cocktail of drugs and substances intended to improve my abilities. Some side effects I doubt there are even names for. Every room I'm wheeled into bombards me from every wall with a streaming mixed video of random words, events, and images. I can only assume this is intended for further brainwashing. This strikes me as tremendously unnecessary.

In the beginning I was treated almost like a human being. However with the addition of each new method of "improvement," less of what I was remained. I've degraded from an animal to a simple tool. I am atrophic from the waist down, this is no inconvenience to men who can now simply wheel me now where they please.

My captors are the Department of Interstellar Immigration: Research and Development Branch. I am the sacrificial lamb on the altar.

The prayer? A brighter future for mankind.

Any and all information revealed here is almost entirely the product of my own observations and insinuations. Almost none has been volunteered to me.

I live now solely within the refuge of my own mind, for my body is no longer my own. Even my mind however, is under constant assault. I find my spells of total human clarity lessen with every day. If I am to do something to escape this existence, I fear it must be sooner than later.

With this sad little butter knife I intended to take my own life. Moments ago I wished for nothing more than to leave this sickened, waxy shell empty here in this sparse and dank little cell. When faced with the possibility of death and its simple mercy however, I find myself unable to do the deed. What stays my hand I do not know, but instead I use it to carve this message.

Perhaps it is that single tiny window and it's light. I wish it were lower, so that it may provide me some view. But, it does not and never did, no matter how much I screamed for it, back when I had the moisture of tongue and the air in my lungs to do so.

Below the loose tiles of this floor you found this message and you wonder why bother?

Simply to gather my thoughts I suppose, to keep myself sane for just this much longer.

Honesty. Named for honesty.

Is it ever too late to pray? I hope not.

_ Nandaba Naota _

_

* * *

__Author's Note: Let this serve as an introduction, an attempt at testing the waters of the FLCL fanfiction base, so to speak. If you liked what you read, than please let me know and I will update with haste in a more typical fashion. By this I mean: plot, story progression, character interaction, and my favorite: dialogue. Let this message be my way of delivering the concept. _


	2. Chapter 1: Furi? Kuri?

**Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of ****Gainax**** and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for ****entertainment purposes only and result**** in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.**

**FOOLY COOLY DUO**

**Chapter 1: ****Furi? ****Kuri?**

"…and to the left, down this hall is where extraction takes place," the man shuffled through his stack of papers with an expert glove, "and it's worth noting that we now have a window of just over eleven hours of pure open N.O. As a matter of fact, my team just recently put in a request to extend our operating time to upwards of fifteen hours." He took a moment to clear his throat. "Not only that, but we've just pulled out something that is truly spectacular just last night. It's all really quite exciting and very hush hush of course."

His visiting superior grunts noncommittally to this, and responds with a question. "What of the cyborg? The one that calls itself…Canti?"

The young man snorts derisively, "Ah yes, actually _Lord _Canti is what it insists it's called. Quite ridiculous honestly. Oh, and it's a robot, not a cyborg. It's a common mistake."

For this he receives what is unmistakably a glare, noticeable even hidden behind thick shades. "Please answer the question."

The technician flinches apologetically. "Right! Well naturally at one time we were quite glad to have it. However we've since found that it's nearly useless for any complex task and suspect it's defective in condition. It has very limited ability to communicate, even when it wishes to. It's hardly worth dismantling, as we've recovered much better specimens from our N.O." He pauses to clear his throat. "Naturally, we can't ignore the connection between it and the subject, as video footage from the incident five years ago suggests the two can interact and tap into some truly amazing results. However, for some reason beyond my understanding, HQ commands us to keep them strictly separated until further notice. And, so they are, stored in opposite ends of the facility."

His partner's eyes seemed somewhere other than at the conversation at hand, taking in the ridiculous amount of posted warning signs. Messages range from "Hazmat equipment is to be worn and sealed at all times. Prevent contamination beyond this point," to "Guitars of any kind on facility premises are grounds for termination." Or even: "Please keep the games at home where they belong, baseball is not our friend."

At this he popped a gumball into his mouth and savored the burst of sweetness. "Interesting regulations you guys have here."

"Ah yes." The technician adjusted his glasses nervously, "well I suppose it must seem pretty silly to an outsider, but believe me when I say that certain items would be engines of mass destruction in the hands of our subject." He offered a small smile, "not that we don't get a little rebellious now and then. I myself happen to have a Fender Acoustic sitting in my locker that I like to toy with on my breaks. I mean, the subject…it's practically catatonic. There are no worries."

His companion's immense nori eyebrows perked with interest. "On the contrary, I'm very impressed with the security measures you boys here at R&D have in place." He adjusted his coat, "plus, who can deny the results you've been getting? It's truly spectacular."

The young techie beamed with pride, and turned to his visiting superior. "I beg your pardon Commander Amarao, but I was under the impression that you and your department didn't approve of our methods here."

At this the commander stopped and smiled. The two men now found themselves standing alone in a sparse white hallway. "Let's say I've finally seen the light. The ends justify the means right?"

His companion grinned from ear to ear. "Right!"

"Wrong."

"Wha-?"

Thunk, the techie drops to the floor in a heap of lab clothes and body parts, his clipboard left spinning in the air, papers drifting to the ground. Amarao stands smiling over him, holding his gun precisely where he struck the back of his companions head. He places the handgun back into his jacket, and quietly gathers the scattered papers while whistling softly to his self. He stands afterwards, swings his leg back, and delivers an expert kick to the poor guy's face. With a crack the head twists into a very unnatural position. Both papers and corpse, sans its lab coat, are unceremoniously shoved into a nearby broom closet.

Standing outside the door, now dressed as an employee, Commander Amarao answer's the silent buzz of his cell phone. "I want good news Kitsurubami."

"I'm staring at Naota right now, it's…who could do this?"

"What's his condition?"

"Commander, he's practically comatose. He's pasty and almost completely unresponsive. He has been properly nourished but his legs are atrophic, from lack of use I assume. I'll have to wheel him out of here."

"That's no good, I was really hoping he would be up and moving. We'll have to go with plan b."

"Yes of course Commander."

"Did you disable the alarms?"

"Affirmative. The entire security grid for this half of the building has been disabled. Even when security realizes what's going they won't be able to give each other so much as a phone call without tearing the wiring out of the walls. Unfortunately, Camera uplinks in every other quadrant but the holding cell are wired on separate grids, you're on your own there Sir."

"I've charmed my ways out of worse."

"Commander?"

"Yes Kitsurubami?"

"When are you going to tell me what plan b _is_?"

"When I've come up with it, Lieutenant. Just spin him to the rendezvous point in the east corridor. Do everything you can to snap the kid out of it, everything. If worse comes to worse, give him the needle."

"Oh, it's _that_ easy?" Kitsurubami whispers icily.

"Just do it. I'm en route to pick up the robot. I've decided to take a quick peek inside their warehouses, something tells me it'll be worth the while. Commander Amarao, out." Click.

Amarao was in the storage corridor in a matter of minutes, sweating profusely. He had successfully passed several security checkpoints with his newly stolen keycard. Unfortunately, he drew unwanted attention when he threw it across the room in a rage--it wouldn't work. Naturally, he was quite embarrassed when an employee explained to him that he was sliding the wrong side.

The area was virtually deserted, he assumed that they took their goodies elsewhere to pick apart and study. He glanced nervously at the security camera trained on him before sliding his card for the umpteenth time. The first few rooms proved simultaneously overwhelming and useless. Where some consisted of nothing more than piles of scrap, others contained everything ranging from categorized rocks, tools, and contraptions; to tanks of all shapes and sizes filled with all manners of horrible creatures alive and dead.

He was surprised, to say the least, when the next pneumatic door slid open to show a room all but empty. In the center of the room was a bass guitar stood on a simple stand, spotlight illuminating it in the pitch black expanse. At the sight of it Amarao's blood ran cold, freezing him in the doorway. Its four silver strings gave off a sickeningly pale moonlight of their own. It's outline was devilishly barbed and alluringly curvaceous. Its black sheen refused to accept the light from above, casting it away. It was frightening and terribly beautiful to the eye.

He had found exactly what he was looking for.

And now he wished he hadn't.

He pulled out his cell phone. "Kitsurubami."

"What?! I'm a little _busy_!" Gunfire could be heard in the background, along with the screams of the dying.

"I need an ID on this, _now_. It's coming at you." With a flash, the cell phone camera took the image. The reply was as fast as it was loud.

"Oh my god Commander! They took that from Naota?!" More gunfire.

"Well I assume so, the fellow I borrowed this coat from seemed rather excited about it."

"Sir, that is a Rickenbacker 4003 SPC Blackstar. It's dangerous beyond words, it's presence on this planet is a very bad omen."

"It's not like you to be superstitious Kitsurubami."

"I'm not Commander, we would be idiots to leave it here with these people and even bigger idiots to take it with us." She pauses for a moment, "You're taking it aren't you?"

"Yeah I found its case in the corner over here. The robot is at the end of this hall, we're still on for the rendezvous correct?"

"Yes sir, I've got Naota with me and we're heading down the north east corridor. He still won't respond to any sort of stimuli. We have several armed pursuers. I hope you have some ideas now."

"Well…they aren't so much ideas as they are brainstorms. Try not to get shot Lieutenant. Supreme Task Force Brave Eagle, out."

"Wha-?" Click.

Amarao stood just within the room, staring out into the hall. The Commander tossed the lab coat to the side, it would do him no good now. He knew the moment he stepped outside that door with guitar case in hand his intentions would be made obvious. Luckily, with communications disrupted as they were, they would be slow to act. He would reach Canti in time.

He hopes.

Right. Time to go.

The Commander took off, guitar and case in one hand and pistol in the other. He could hear the click and whir of motors turning as he passed the camera. He watched it trail his movements; maybe he wouldn't make it after all.

He passed door after door, clotheslining any unfortunate soul that threatened to impede his progress with the guitar case. The door at the end of the corridor came into view.

"Holy christ I'm gonna make it!"

Amarao slides to the card slot and swipes.

Bingo!

Denied.

Fuck a duck!

A big black five is painted right above keypad. He glances quickly at his own card--four. Now what? The whoosh of an automatic door to his left draws his attention. Too good to be true! He tosses his card to the side and whips out his handgun again. Turning to yet another stereotypical white coated lab tech, he shoves the barrel right between his bugging eyes.

"I pray for your sake and mine that you have level 5 access. Open this door quickly or you'll be sucking your brains off the floor with a shopvac." Amarao smiles darkly and gestures towards the door in question.

"Sweet Jesus! Yes! Ok! Just please god don't _shoot_!" The scientist rushed to the locked door, gun barrel glued to his head. He swipes his card, shaking hands hinder his progress, resulting in several stressful misswipes. With a whimper and a sigh of relief the door beeps to life and slides open. The technician falls to the ground and shakes.

"I really do appreciate your cooperation." Amarao's smile drops from his faces as soon as a something nasty reaches his nose.

The guy pissed himself, sick!

With another well placed kick, this techie is rendered instantly unconscious. The Commander steps through the door and is surprised of by what he finds. Despite all the sophisticated technology at R&D's disposal, the most effective method of holding a robot they could come up with is…_chains_.

Lot's of them. They criss crossed everywhere, leaving no appendage unrestrained. Canti was motionless, pinned to the wall in a position much similar to Jesus on the cross. His t.v.-shaped head slumped to his chest. Amarao prayed to himself that he wasn't powered down.

Only one way to find out.

"Canti." No response.

"Canti!" Nothing.

Veins in Amarao's forehead looked fit to burst. Clawing at his hair with his free hand, he seethed out the words "Oh mighty _Lord _Canti, God of the Cleansing Flame."

With a beep Canti's head kicks up with surprise, a bold exclamation point on his screen advertising the extent of his surprise. "!"

"Thank god, _something _gone right. Listen Canti, we're getting you out of here." Amarao had already set to work on the nearby terminal, overwhelmed with the variety of buttons and dials. "What the hell?! They need all this to control _chains?!"_

Another bleep from Canti, the kanji symbol for "Honesty" flashing with urgency. It takes the Commander a moment to understand the reference.

"Oh. Kitsurubami's got him all safe and cozy, I mean, as safe as you can be in a drug-induced coma while gunfire his whizzing past your ears."

A manic scattering of red lines translates roughly to general disapproval of his master's condition. Canti starts struggling against his restraints, but without success.

"Yeah well I'm not all that happy about it either, but he's in good hands. Kitsurubami could perform open heart surgery with a handgun if she needed to. But if it makes you feel any better, the sooner we get you out of this, the sooner we can meet them." By this point, Amarao was sure he'd hit every switch, button, dial, and knob on the terminal. The chains didn't budge an inch, but the Commander was fairly sure he'd cut off the life support for the International Space Station. "A hint would be great right about now Canti."

In response Canti's head flashed to life and began scrolling a detailed engineering diagram of every wired component in the room. Amarao was not pleased.

"Really, that's _fantastic_. Now how about running that by me again with something I understand?"

" " An arrow pointing towards Canti's left. The Commander's eyes followed the line of sight, and there, as obvious as can be, was a simple red button. Stewing, Amarao stomps over to it and slams it with his fist. He ignores the obvious damage inflicted to his gun hand and watches with satisfaction as the chains drop to the ground, Canti landing on one knee at the top of the pile. He then rises and stretches outward in a victory pose. After a moment he turns to Amaroa, awaiting orders.

"Alright Canti, I'm sure you got the lock on Naota's position, but we're meeting them in the southern corridor, right outside the employee showers. Now first we-" Suddenly all hell breaks loose, a constant blaring siren pierces what was once complete silence—red flashing lights infect every movement with a strobe effect. The alarm system is back from the dead.

With that Canti kicks off the ground, anti gravity humming to life. With a rush he snatches the guitar case from Amarao and swings the Commander onto his back, whooshing through the open door and knocking a passerby into the wall. Amarao clings for dear life with one hand around Canti's neck and the other fumbles into his jacket for his cellphone.

"Kitsurubami, the alarms are working."

"Oh no_ really_? I hadn't noticed! I _told_youthis would happen yesterday morning if we took too long!" Gunfire was peppering in the background, Kitsurubami was obviously returning fire, until a clicking signaled a very skillful reload, followed by more return fire.

Flushed with embarrassment, the Commander struggles with a comeback and in the pressure of the moment, fails. "Yeah, well it…slipped my mind! Ok? Regardless, if you think shit's hit the fan now, we've got 20 minutes until the Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood is scheduled to rip this place a new asshole. We gotta be out of there by then."

"I understand sir, have you acquired the cyborg?"

"Robot."

"Whatever!"

"Right yes, he looks to be in good shape." As if to prove Amarao right, Canti kicks around a corner with a twirl, nearly shaking the commander loose. "We're going to be arriving before you; I expect you'll be bringing trouble with you?"

"No end of it, but sir, speaking of trouble. I've been listening in on their com channels, apparently they've set up a blockade i-" Canti turned another corner and froze, sliding to a abrupt halt. Straight ahead, at the end of the hall, dozens of armed men stood shoulder to shoulder. Suits and ties, they were obviously DII men, the hall echoed with the sounds of safeties being offset. Every gun in the room was trained on them. "Uh Kitsurubami, I gotta go."

"Dammit Comman-" Click. Tee hee.

Oh right, impending death.A tall man with short cropped blonde hair and thick sunglasses nonchalantly steps to the front of the group. He has a handgun in each hand raised to head level and hanging loosely in his hands. It was Branch Commander Fuyuki Ito, Amarao's counterpart at R&D.

"Commander Amarao," his nemesis draws out "commander" tauntingly, "I've seen you do a lot of crazy things to sabotage our program here over the years, but outright treason is the final nail in your coffin my friend."

Amarao tucks his cell phone into his jacket pocket and replaces it with his handgun. He readjusts his position, so that as little of his body is exposed outside of the bulletproof robot as necessary. "Ito you _piece of shit_! Get out of my way!"

"You've been one step ahead ever since the academy. Even now, I can't enjoy my promotion knowing you're in command of the _prestigious _Surveillance Branch while I rot here babysitting snot nosed geeks every day!" Ito stomps his foot down repeatedly like a child throwing a tantrum. "It's not _fair_!"

Noticing that all eyes in the room were now trained on him, Ito finally composes himself. "I've been dreaming of the day when I would finally be able to crush you. And lo and behold, here you are in my own den, and you've given me all the justification in the world to turn you into Swiss cheese."

The half-crazed Commander grins wickedly, nearly drooling at the edges of his mouth. "I can see my secretary typing it up already! My proposal to bring the R&D and Surveillance Departments together under _my _trusted leadership." Seeing Amarao yawn uninterestedly and zzz's scrolling across the robot's screen, Ito raises his voice and shakes his gun menacingly. "Hey! Are you listening to me?!"

Amarao ignores him. "Listen Ito, I'm flattered to hear that you dream of me but I think there is something you should know. In about fifteen minutes the GSPB is going to beam down here and make their move to snag the boy." He pauses and waves his gun slowly from left to right for dramatic effect," and when their done, this whole place and everyone in it are going to be little more than a hole in the ground."

The R&D Commander steps back in surprise, but then his features darken. "Liar. We would have-" Amarao cuts him off.

"-been informed by the Surveillance Department?" The Commander reaches into his pocket with his gun hand and pops another gumball into his mouth to replace the one he just spat out, "Gee, sorry about the late notice, must have slipped our minds."

Commander Ito seethes with rage and thrusts his gun towards the pair angrily. "Bullshit, it's all bullshit! Shoot them! Shoot them! _Shoot them_!" The group of suited men opens fire.

"Let's do this Canti!" The robot bleeps a response and takes off towards the group, the commander huddling behind him trying his best not to eat lead. Bullets chip away the walls as they ricochet off his protective coating. As the pair get closer Amarao reaches a hand over Canti's shoulder and starts taking potshots into the crowd, rarely failing to cause some damage. However, it's the deflected bullets off Canti that inflict the most harm, and are the most likely cause of poor Commander Ito being chewed to pieces.

Amarao gives out a cry of pain when a bullet rips his side. His yell deepens when Canti makes physical contact with the mass of men and he is nearly shook from his perch. The lanky robot barrels through them like a bowling ball against pins, smashing them against the walls with his mighty fists and leaves them crumpled behind as he flies down hallways and corridors. Amarao laughs with glee and picks up his phone.

"Commander you're alive!"

"Would it kill you to try not to act so surprised? Listen Lieutenant, I'm hit but it's not bad." The Commander pauses a moment to hop off Canti, who has just halted. "We just arrived at the rendezvous point, I'm going to have Canti start making our exit, you almost here?"

But she didn't need to answer, gunshots signaled her coming. Amarao and Canti each turned to their left and jumped in surprise at what they saw. An electric wheelchair cut the corner madly on one wheel. A young man sat slumped in its seat, but it was the second passenger that was the most surprising. The young, bronze skinned and beautiful Lieutenant squatted with a foot on each armrest, one slamming right on the throttle. She faced the rear, firing her handgun at obvious pursuers. As the wheel chair rights itself her handgun clicked empty for the last time. Tossing it, she pulls two grenades from her belt and yanks the pins with her teeth. With two separately timed tosses the whole corner was blown to rubble and any chance of pursuit from that side was nullified.

Canti and Amarao were both slumped with amazement, the latter left to pick his jaw from the floor. Kitsurubami leapt from her perch as the wheelchair slid to a halt and landed in a salute with catlike grace."Lieutenant Kitsurubami and Civilian Naota Nandaba reporting Commander."

"Uh…um…at ease Lieutenant, how is he?" Amarao took Naota's chin in his hand and lifted it to face him. Although clean shaven, the young man's hair had grown long enough to hide his eyes and very disheveled. The skin was waxy and cold to the touch, and the eyes were open, but were clouded and stared unmoving into space. Everything about the boy screamed "just alive enough to count." "Ok, so he's not doing so great."

The young Lieutenant frowned, eyes expressing a subdued sadness, and nodded her head.

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire facility and screams could be heard echoing in the far distance. The Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood had made their entrance. Time had run out, no words needed be said.

"Right, time to go." Commander Amarao gestured animatedly towards the opposing wall. "Ok Canti, make with the hitting. This will take us outside where the jeep's parked."

The robot nodded and gave a thumbs up before turning to the wall. Suddenly, Canti started wailing his fists wildly against it. Chunks of rubble flew everywhere. Kitsurubami had to pull Naota back while Amarao dodged a large chunk that nearly smacked his head.

Suddenly a clang rings out. There wasn't supposed to be a clang. A clang is bad.

Clang. Clang. Clang.There it is again, fuck!

Canti turned and scratched the back of his head, shrugging and blushing madly. Behind him, the concrete wall had been chipped away to reveal solid metal alloy without so much as a dent in it.

Amarao gulped and spoke first. "Some sort of reinforced metal wall. We didn't expect this."

Kitsurubami turned to him. "Gundamium maybe?"

"What?" The Commander turned his head, perplexed.

Flushed with embarrassment, the Lieutenant shook hands in front of her. "Eh, nevermind."

Another explosion rocks the facility, and the screams become much louder and more constant. They are getting _close_.

Panic sets in. "Commander, what are we going to _do_?!"

But Amarao is already on the floor, arms around his legs rocking back and forth and overwhelmed with pure terror. "We're all going to die, we're all going to die, we're all going to die!" Smack. Ouch. Kitsurubami looms above him with hands on her waist and legs akimbo.

"Right, right, ideas…let's see I…" Suddenly a door catches his eye. Above it written out is "Employee Locker Room, " "I got it! Kitsurubami, do you still have the adrenaline shot?"

"Yeah, of course, but-"

"Good! Get it ready! I'll be right back." With this Amarao tore past her and blew through the door. From outside, Canti and Kitsurubami could hear the sounds of ripping metal and gunfire. Then: a cry of success. The door was kicked off its hinges and its frame stood Amarao, a Fender Acoustic held triumphantly in his hands.

Kitsurubami looked at the syringe in her hand and back at the Commander, she was unimpressed. "You can't be serious, an acoustic? It's not even electric!"

Amarao frowned and gestured to the guitar case, now leaning against the wall. "It's this or Satan's axe over there. You decide."

She panicked and started waving her hands. "No no no! Fine! But sir, you can't honestly be thinking of using this on him!"

"We have to, besides he's got every drug under the sun in him now. One more won't kill him."

"No! That's it! One more just might kill him! It's pure adrenaline!" Kitsurubami was livid.

Amarao set the guitar into Naota's clammy hands and gestured for the syringe. "If the GSPB catches us here we're all as good as dead anyway. Naota will be even worse off. Now hand me the needle, that's an order."

"No!" Amarao perked an eyebrow up at the exclamation, Kitsurbami blushed and shied back sheepishly, "I mean no…let me do it. This is delicate." She approached the young man while the redhead stepped to the side, syringe hanging loosely in her hand. The meek blonde placed her empty hand on the top of his hand and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. "Be ok, ok?" she whispered.

Shutting her eyes, she stabs the needle directly into his heart, passing through the chest with a single blow. She gasps, and at that moment a yell rings out from the opposite end of the corridor.

"There they are! We've got him now!" Three figures crouch menacingly at the end of the hallway, approaching slowly. Each clutches a GSPB standard Rickenbacker 4001 bass guitar in their hands. Yellow eyes gleam with feral intent behind long pink hair and fanged teeth are revealed by wicked smiles.

Canti and Amarao step back, this is it. Releasing her held breath, Kitsurubami presses her thumb and sends the plunger down.

The reaction is instantaneous. With a twitch and a jump Naota Nandaba roars to life.

Kitsurubami stumbles back in shock and horror as his primal yell fills the world. The young man falls from his chair, clutching at his chest, eyes wide with wild fear and energy. Everyone in the area grows still, overwhelmed by both his scream and the sound of his heart beat reverberating off the walls.

His head kicks up, veins bulging horribly all over his face, arms, and hand clutching the Fender Acoustic. His cry grows impossibly louder and a humid wind fills the halls with a banshee wail. His empty fist pounds wildly against the floor, shattering tile and concrete into rubble. His wild eyes pierce the disheveled strands of his hair, and fall on the three pink haired women--they all look like _her_. His roar dies in his throat and the mad wind trickles to a breeze.

There is only the rumbling heart beat. And then his gnashing teeth and snarling lips form a sickingly twisted grin. A slow, demonic laugh fills every hall and chills all within them to their bone. It is a rumbling and purposeful sound that all at once came from nowhere and yet was everywhere. Although his throat, teeth, and lips remained unmoved—all eyes fell upon the unmistakable source.

And in that singular moment, Naota Nandaba is unleashed.

May god have mercy upon our souls.

* * *

_Author's Note: There's that. A sincere thank you goes out to __Shadowsin__ for the emotional lift necessary for me to put out this real chapter sooner than later__. H__opefully this will bring more like him/her. Maybe together we can all inject some life back into the FLCL __fanfiction__ section.__Until next time, take care._


	3. Chapter 2: Paper? Or Plastic?

**Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of Gainax and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for entertainment purposes only and result in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.**

**FOOLY COOLY DUO**

"Hey what was up with you eating the kid's face back there? Awfully suspicious…"

"I was not eating his face! It was a simple kiss on the cheek, it was _chaste_!"

'I don't know…it looked pretty fooly to me, maybe even a bit…cooly."

"It wasn't fooly or_ cooly_!"

"What'd you say to him, huh? That 'you'd do the rest when you get back' maybe?"

"Don't say that, it's bad luck! Misato died in that movie you know."

"Which ending did you like more?"

"What does that have to do with anything?! He could have _died_! I…I just wanted him to have something nice to take with him if he left…"

"Sounds like fooly cooly if I ever heard it."

"That's it! Commander, I have to protest! This whole conversation is completely inappropriate!"

"You're right, you're right…so how is he?"

"How should I know? I'm a soldier! I break people, not fix them! Why don't you ask the doctors how he is?!"

"Well, I assumed that since you're lovers now-"

"COMMANDER!"

**Chapter 2: Paper****? O****r Plastic?**

Naota hated it when people talked about him as if he wasn't in the room. Does it make it any less rude if he's supposed to be asleep? No matter how hard he tried to focus through the fog however, he couldn't make head or tails of their buzzing voices. But for some reason or another, he just _knew _it was about him.

Of course, it _is _awfully hard to get upset while on….whatever it was they had him on now. The air feels hazy and heavy, weighing his eyelids shut. So blissful, he felt he could almost burst into a giggle or even fall asleep. Yeah, he could go either way right now.

Zzz.

It was a much less rosy Naota than came to six hours later when he awoke with an involuntary vomit. He didn't know why he was suddenly born into an existence of pure suffering, only that he was. In a matter of minutes, he wasn't in any state of mind to be questioning it. Piercing white light enveloped every inch of his vision and drilled straight into his brain through his eyes. Shutting them against it did nothing to alleviate the torture. His body squirmed and twisted with involuntary spasms. Every inch burned with an unceasing flame, only to shift into intense chills minutes later and back again. A constant crawling sensation infested his skin without end. The only indication that he was screaming was the rasping, raw pain coating his throat. He couldn't hear his own cries over the ringing reverberating through the inside of his skull.

For six days he existed like this, punctured with only the rarest mercy of a blackout. It often took upwards of six nurses to hold him down before straps could be tightened in place. However these often proved troublesome when administering aid and had to be removed when his body tired and his cries died to a whimper. Eventually they became necessary for a completely different reason. As his symptoms lessened enough for thoughts to form again, one remained prominent in his mind: his own death.

Naota's voice had died entirely and his caretakers now attempted to communicate with him through pen and paper. However, when given a blank notebook his shaky scrawl would only produce one request: "KILL ME." Over and over again he wrote, and when the baffled nurses refused, he tried to turn the pen on his own heart. He fought brutally despite his weakened state and shook loose the nurses who tried to restrain him. When the final blow was imminent, one soft feminine hand held it fast in an iron grip. Naota shocked eyes traveled up the offending arm to the face of its owner.

She had a soft smile and a beautiful bronze face framed by wisps of light blonde hair and all topped by a cute military-issued beret. The assaultive white light that had haunted and pained him for a week now served as a holy corona, framing her entirety. She had the look of a gorgeous and forgiving goddess of war, an angel in god's army. Everything about her at that moment emanated empathy and tranquility, cutting through the pain, dark thoughts, and emotional barriers like a hot knife through butter.

Naota despised her instantly.

If the young lieutenant noticed, she ignored it. "Hello Mr. Nandaba. I'm Lieutenant Kitsurubami, and I'll be your bodyguard for this moment on. I'm sure we'll get along famously!" Her smile widened further.

Naota honestly couldn't tell if she was kidding or not. His glare locked gazes with her chestnut eyes. She was one of _those _people he thought, the type who could smile through their eyes. Ugh! He found however, that they were also immovable, filled with a strange sort of stubborn kindness. He knew he'd lost this battle, and with a huff he released the pen. The young man then broke eye contact and ragingly flipped to his side, facing away from her. Naota refused to respond for the rest of the day, succumbing once again to the tortures he had momentarily forgotten.

Four more days feel like an eternity. More tossing, more turning, and more sweat inducing nightmares. Doctors and nurses would talk of progress, and Naota would stew silently in an agony no less crippling than a week before. And all the while the Lieutenant would watch on in constant vigilance. She would sometimes converse with the nurses of his condition, and it was through these discussions that Naota learned that the source of his suffering was withdrawal symptoms. Knowing this did little to comfort him, nor did it stay his attempts at taking his own life.

At first Kitsurubami was all smiles and made several attempts at conversation, assuring him that they meant him no harm. However as the days went on she grew increasingly exhausted. The young woman found that it was when she was most relaxed that he would make his moves. Thus, she never settled and sleep deprivation ate away at her cheery demeanor. To her credit she never once complained, giving only one small sigh at her disheveled and drawn appearance in a nearby window's reflection.

On the morning of the eleventh day, everything changed. Kitsurubami stumbled into the room with cup of coffee clutched in her shaking hand. She saw Naota lying undercovers staring unmovingly into space in much the same way he had been for all his time spent conscious. The young Lieutenant drug her feet across the room and prepared to do the same for yet another day. She nearly missed the chair when a voice, barely more than a whisper, shocked her silly.

"You're not wearing your gun."

Kitsurubami was embarrassingly flustered by this turn of events. Once she managed to pull herself back into the chair and safely set down her coffee, she turned her shocked expression towards the source. "Ex…excuse me?"

Naota's blank expression remained unchanged, nor did the crisp and quiet tone of his voice. "You're not wearing your gun."

Kitsurubami's mouth hung slightly agape, still overwhelmed. His voice wasn't raspy at all! He's been choosing not to talk! For how long? Realizing that her staring might be considered rude, she manages to stutter out an answer. "Ah, well, in the past three days you've made a grab for it five times. I thought you'd be safer if the temptation wasn't in the room." Ouch, a little more honest then she intended to be.

The young man seems to be mulling this over, turning to stare at a blank wall. The silence stretches on and starts to feel very uncomfortable for the Lieutenant, but Naota show no signs of caring. Kitsurubami was nearly ready to consider the conversation a fluke and assume it ended, but then he then said something even more surprising.

"I want to go outside."

If possible, Kitsurubami's eyes widened further. She desperately didn't want this run of good luck to end, so she answered instantly. "I think we could definitely work something out." She gave him one of her most dazzling smiles.

In minutes the nurses were called in and prepped him for his outing. They rapidly undressed him and slid on a new hospital gown and light cotton leggings. Kitsurubami put her hand to her eyes and looked away, blushing madly to ensure she wouldn't accidentally see anything she shouldn't. With an expert lift the women all managed plop him into the seat of a wheelchair. One nurse was kind enough to find a pair of DII standard sunglasses to complete the ensemble.

Kitsurubami alone wheeled him out of the room and through the winding halls of the medical wing. They spent the entire trip in mutual silence, even when they wheeled across the marble floor of the lobby and out the electric doors.

Naota hissed when the bright light of the sun bombarded his skin and eyes. Worried for his condition, Kitsurubami immediately stopped to bring them back inside but Naota waved her forward. She guided them both along a stone path that wound towards the back of the massive facility. The sky was a rich blue and large and puffy white clouds floated lazily overhead. A more perfect day could not be asked for. She found a patch of grass in sight of a simple fountain and pond, surrounded by beds of assorted flowers. Secretly it happened to be a place she enjoyed spending rare breaks to relax and enjoy fresh air and hoped he would appreciate a place close to her heart. She parked the chair and stood at ease alongside him, praying for him to speak. She did not have to wait long.

"Thank you." Still subdued, still so quiet, as if he wasn't sure if he was speaking his own language correctly.

"You're very welcome Mr. Nandaba. I could use some fresh air myself."

Naota sighed. "Have I gotten that old now? I'm a Mister?"

"Ah well if you're old, than I must be fit to keel over any minute."

His humorless face turned to meet hers momentarily, then turned to watch the fountain again. "You can't be much older than me."

"Twenty-four, not much older at all." She smiled softly, "You know it's not polite to ask a lady her age."

"I didn't."

She bit her lip, it was the truth. After turning away in embarrassment, she looks back to find him totally engrossed. His hands had reached down to softly brush the grass and his eyes drank in the sights of flying birds and flowing water. Department employees walked the paths for various reasons, some turning to return his odd stare with perplexed looks of their own. After what seemed like hours of this, he settled further into his chair and spoke again.

"I haven't seen the sky for five years. Or trees, flowers, or grass. Any of this."

Kitsurubami shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to answer. Luckily, she didn't have to.

"I apologize if I'm going about this all wrong. I haven't talked with anyone for a really long time. I've forgotten how."

Kitsurubami panicked and starting waving her hands vigorously. "No no no, you're doing just fine! Please continue."

"If you really don't mind."

"Of course not! I…I don't talk to anyone very often either." The Lieutentant blushes and turns away sheepishly. After a moment, Kitsurubami made up her mind: she wanted to hear more about his experience. She wanted him to start from the beginning, so she decided to ask a question that she already knew the answer to. "How old were you when you were taken?" Regret immediate set in, maybe she shouldn't be asking such personal questions so soon.

If he was shaken by the question, he didn't show it. "It was four days before my thirteenth birthday. I was buying a drink at a vending machine near my house, when men with guns put a sack over my head." He searched her face intently, she was hanging on his every word; He decided to continue. "It seems like a lifetime ago."

Kitsurubami listened intently as he continued his story.

"It wasn't so bad at first. I'd get fed normal food, and some of the people there would even talk to me. It was like going to school, but without any of the other kids. That made it almost nice, even if I couldn't leave. At night I knew they were doing something to me, but I didn't know what, I wouldn't wake up because of the pills." Naota's expression darkened some, but his voice still had its spooky tranquil quality. "But after a few months, they got greedy, lustful. I could see it in their eyes; they were changed by the things they were finding in there." He tapped his temple to indicate where exactly he meant. "People need other people you know. I haven't seen a person for a long time."

Kitsurubami was confused, "What? Didn't you see then men who were holding you captive after that?"

"No, I didn't see any men—only monsters. They gave up their humanity for what they were doing, in what they were doing to me, for others. Personally, I think no good can come of people giving up their humanity, for humanity, you know? I don't think it does the rest of us any favors, but then again, I'm biased aren't I?"

The question was rhetorical, and they both knew it. A shadow of guilt crosses Naota's drawn features, realizing he has been in control of this entire conversation. He swallows, feeling suddenly self conscious of his rusty verbal skills. "S-so Lieutenant Kitsurubami, would it be rude of me to ask your first name?" Seeing her shocked expression, he panics and quickly backtracks. "Of c-course if you rather I called you by your title I'd do just that, naturally."

Kitsurubami smiled radiantly in pleasant shock, which served to only make Naota that more uncomfortable. Was that a stutter she heard? He was warming up to her! She was delighted her charge was opening up to her finally. "Not all at all, you can call me Kitsurubami!"

It was Naota's turn to be perplexed. "Eh? Your name is Kitsurubami Kitsurubami?"

His companion giggles softly. "No, no, don't worry this happens all the time. You see, I don't have a last name. I was nameless when I was brought into the state-sponsored orphanage that I was raised in. My name was issued to me by the state, randomly selected." She beamed as she said all this, as if she was discussing something as simple as the weather. "A last name was deemed unnecessary for me and those like me."

Naota was overwhelmed by this pandora's box he had unleashed. His head spinning, he manages to squeak out a follow up question. "Like you?"

"Yep, I'm a product of the first generation of child soldiers. When orphans reach a certain age, they are significantly less likely to be adopted. Rather than putting us out on the streets and feeding crime rates, they pay for military schooling and special government programs. We're given a career, serving our country." Kitsurubami seemed rather proud of her upbringing and didn't hesitate to continue. "Some of my classmates were sent to the Navy, others to the SDF, ADF, ect. But…I'm the only one to have ever been selected for the Department of Interstellar Immigration." Kitsurubami beamed with pride and struck her best victory pose, holding her index finger up in front of herself. "Number one in my class!"

Naota was fascinated by the whole story, and then an idea struck him. "You're like James Bond."

Kitsurubami stayed in pose and blinked. "Eh?"

"James Bond was an orphan too. He went to school at a military academy, and he joined a secret organization, like this one." He felt like he was on a roll, "does this make you some kind of super soldier?"

The young lieutenant suddenly found herself embarrassed and waving her hands again, blushing madly. "Oh no no no, nothing like that! Just a loyal one." She thought for a moment and smiled wistfully. "James Bond huh? I like those movies. I've never thought about it that way before."

Naota had a suspicion that his bodyguard was being modest about her talent, but he didn't want to press the point. "I think I know what it must have been like. I didn't have a mother growing up either, she left my dad and I when I was about four. My dad was there, but he wasn't always _there,_ if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I've met your father, I know what you mean. We're quite the pair huh?"

Naota stirred some in his chair, he felt had to get something off his chest. "I hated you, you know, when you stopped me from killing myself. I was so close…I thought you were all going to use me again, I was in so much pain. Wh-why did you rescue me?"

Kitsurubami chuckles nervously and rubs the back of her head. "Ah well now I wish I had a marker board with me, because this could get a bit complicated."

"I'm a smart boy."

She smiles and nods, launching into a speech she had half prepared already. "Ok then. Currently the DII is composed of five branches spread throughout Japan. The first and most important is Headquarters—this is where the complex inner weavings of the other four branches meet. Its intentions and workings are always shrouded in mystery to even us. The higher leadership is a twisted mess of aliases and forgeries, for security purposes, or even more nefarious ones yet to be discovered. The other four branches are Public Relations, Universal Communication, Research and Development, and lastly our branch: Surveillance. You still with me so far?"

Naota nodded, greatly intrigued.

She nods and chooses her next words carefully. "Well starting with the escape of Atomsk five years ago, a series of events have resulted in a sundering in the organization. HQ has become increasingly unresponsive to our questioning and demands, as well as becoming odder in the requests it asks of its branches. Commander Amarao, my superior and the CO of this branch, you should know, tried everything in his political power to prevent knowledge of your existence. After your capture, he also tried every method at his disposal to sabotage the project. This has all made him very unpopular in the organization, with the obvious exception of his own branch. Four weeks ago, we intercepted information passing from within the DII that strongly suggests HQ's intentions for you. While R&D had been using you to bring mankind "up to speed" so to speak in this Galaxy, HQ intended to use you to attempt a rechanneling and control of the interstellar demigod Atomsk and all power that entails. That explains why they kept Canti safely intact. With you both, it is their intention to take complete political and military control of the united peoples of the civilized universe. Thus, ensuring mankind's perpetual reign.

She pauses and smiles softly. "Commander Amarao does not share their beliefs, and most definitely does not approve of their methods. Nor does anyone loyal to this branch, such as myself. He may be pretty childish, as you remember, but he can be a very charismatic leader when he wants." She shudders and shakes her fist as involuntary memories spring to her head. "And disgusting, I mean, what is _with _those eyebrows?!"

Naota nods knowingly, the eyebrows are quite sad.

She composes herself and starts again. "Well, not long after we learned of HQ's intentions we received word that the Galactic Space Patrol Brotherhood intended to strike against the R&D branch and make their move to claim you. They covet your N.O. which, you already know, is extraordinarily powerful. That, and they wish to keep human evolutionary progress on its normal train of development. Whether that's to ensure their own dominance, or to keep us "safe," is anyone's guess really. So, taking advantage of this information, we launched a daring and brilliant rescue operation during the chaos of the GSPD's invasion. This was surveillance's final act of treason, and solidified our independence from HQ. It was touch and go at the end there but then you…well you'll see the footage of that later. But as you can see by the fact you're still breathing, my tactics are infallible!"

"Your tactics?"

Kitsurubami beams with pride and gestures to herself with her thumb. "Why, I'm second in command of DII Third Branch Surveillance. This makes me Field Commander and the master tactician."

"Sounds like your job is really important, don't you have better things to be doing than babysitting me?"

The Lieutenant smiles and exclaims, "Don't you get it? You're the most important person in the world right now." She pauses to think a moment, "And besides, with the massive blockade that GSPD has around this planet right now, nothing gets on or off of it. So: no field work."

Kitsurubami springs back and strikes another ridiculous pose, startling Naota into giving a small jump. "So that's how it stands. HQ will soon discover that the GSPD didn't snag you and it won't take them long to find our fingerprints all over it. However, they will find themselves seriously crippled. R&D is now a hole in the ground, Public Relations is useless for any sort of combat operations and Communications will be swamped entirely when they discover just how far the GSPD's blockade is down our throats. Speaking of which, the GSPD knows very well that we have you and could make their move at any time. On top of that, there have been whisperings of Medical Mechanica sticking their hand into the cookie jar here soon too. And in the middle of it all: us, and more specifically, you."

Silence reigns between the two for several minutes. Kitsurubami assumes Naota is mulling all this new information over and waits for him to break the silence. She doesn't have to wait very long.

"Why didn't you just kill me, or even let me kill myself? Wouldn't that solve everything?"

The blonde frowned slightly. "On the surface it seems that way. But your existence among our species suggests something unique about the N.O. capability of the human race in general. There very well may be others like you right now, and if there are, chances are we won't find them all first. This is our one and only chance to finish all of this. All three organizations are coming to a head. We don't need a corpse right now, we need a miracle."

"Am I supposed to conjure up this miracle?"

Kitsurubami grins "We wouldn't mind."

Naota stretches his arms out above his head. "I'll see what I can do."

His eyes widen when the feels a fist lightly connect with the top of his head. "Not yet you won't. You're bedridden and sickly and we don't expect so much as a peep from any of the organizations for a month at least." She hums wistfully while Naota rubs the top of his head. "The passing of intelligence is a painstakingly slow enterprise. Besides, you're practically useless from the waist down."

Naota's eyes bug with shock and his cheeks flush. The blood rushes to Kitsurubami's face and she panics once more. "Oh no no no I didn't mean _there_! I'm sure you have a perfectly fine….ah! Not to say that…I am so hopelessly _bad _at this." She slumps in defeat and both remain motionless side by side, thoroughly embarrassed.

Finally, Naota pipes up, "I like your name, it's a pretty shade of brown, like your skin."

Kitsurubami smiles softly, "Why thank you, I guess that is quite a coincidence."

Another, more tranquil moment passes between the two.

"I'm going to trust you Kitsurubami."

The beautiful Lieutenant is delighted, and gives Naota another dazzling smile. "Does this mean you're not going to try to kill yourself anymore?"

Naota's head remains fixated straight ahead, and he nods.

Kitsurubami nearly collapses against his wheelchair in mock exhaustion. "Oh thank god, sleep."

And then she spots, just for a moment, the beginnings of a smile tug the corners of his lips. Nothing in her life up to that point ever felt so rewarding.

* * *

_Author's Note: Another chapter comes and goes. It's fairly frustrating, I keep feeling __that certain something __eluding__ me. But I'll get it, hang in there with me, the next chapter seems promising. I know some of you may have been expecting__ Naota to be whooping up, but I honestly meant to deal with that at a later point. I hope you weren't too disappointed with the Naotabami fluff instead.__ In my rush to get this out, it's not as proofread as I would have like, so I hope it's not unreadable, I'll make sure the next chapter comes out cleaner._

_Naotabami. It isn't a very popular pairing, maybe I just coined that term? I'll have to copyright it._

_Naotabami©_

_That was easy. Anyway…_

_I try to make a habit of responding to those kind enough to review personally, but I've never done this before and wanted to give it a shot. I hope you guys don't mind._

_To Shadowsin: __My first reviewer. I hope this was soon enough, I've never realized how difficult it can be to maintain a constant stream of updates for a serious story. But, it's fun, and so I spend a lot of time at it. I'm on a laptop so a few hours a day is easy when you're mobile. It's you I was especially worried would be disappointed not getting your Naota own-fest this chapter. I hope this was ok. _

_To Lazy Ass Bastard: Continue I will then, because I'm sure the threat of my brain meats being feasted on is a legitimate one. I'll take the threat on my life as a positive thing. Good times._

_To Azure Dream: Wow, that's really sweet of you to say. Every once and awhile I can channel that Fooly Cooly "-ness" factor, like at the beginn__ing of this chapter for example.__ I think that's when the story is at it__s best personally, but what do you think? All those fun popculture and anime references we love so much too. I find listening to the soundtrack really helps when I write, brings all those good memories back to the surface. Does that sound horribly dorky? I suppose I'm writing fanfiction, so I guess that ship's already left the harbor.__ Allow me to thank you for your kind words._

_See you soon guys, your reviews are like rocket fuel to me._


	4. Chapter 3: To Be? Or Not to Be?

**Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of ****Gainax**** and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for ****entertainment purposes only and result**** in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.**

**Super Special Bonus Disclaimer: This fan fiction's author would like to remind you that this is in fact a "Teen" rated story. The following chapter does contain graphic descriptions of violence and isn't recommended reading for the ****weak**** of heart. **

**FOOLY COOLY DUO**

Shutting her eyes, she stabs the needle directly into his heart, passing through the chest with a single blow. She gasps, and at that moment a yell rings out from the opposite end of the corridor.

"There they are! We've got him now!" Three figures crouch menacingly at the end of the hallway, approaching slowly. Each clutches a GSPB standard Rickenbacker 4001 bass guitar in their hands. Yellow eyes gleam with feral intent behind long pink hair and fanged teeth are revealed by wicked smiles.

Canti and Amarao step back, this is it. Releasing her held breath, Kitsurubami presses her thumb and sends the plunger down.

The reaction is instantaneous. With a twitch and a jump Naota Nandaba roars to life.

Kitsurubami stumbles back in shock and horror as his primal yell fills the world. The young man falls from his chair, clutching at his chest, eyes wide with wild fear and energy. Everyone in the area grows still, overwhelmed by both his scream and the sound of his heart beat reverberating off the walls.

His head kicks up, veins bulging horribly all over his face, arms, and hand clutching the Fender Acoustic. His cry grows impossibly louder and a humid wind fills the halls with a banshee wail. His empty fist pounds wildly against the floor, shattering tile and concrete into rubble. His wild eyes pierce the disheveled strands of his hair, and fall on the three pink haired women--they all look like _her_. His roar dies in his throat and the mad wind trickles to a breeze.

There is only the rumbling heart beat. And then his gnashing teeth and snarling lips form a sickenly twisted grin. A slow, demonic laugh fills every hall and chills all within them to their bone. It is a rumbling and purposeful sound that all at once came from nowhere and yet was everywhere. Although his throat, teeth, and lips remained unmoved—all eyes fell upon the unmistakable source.

Using the acoustic as an aid, Naota drags himself slowly to his feet. He stands, legs slightly bent with the guitar now grasped loosely in his right hand. His head, at first hanging at an angle, snaps upright and faces the threat ahead. Eyes shadowed by ragged bangs, a Cheshire grin pierces the darkness with a pale light.

The three pink haired commandos shift uneasily. The leftmost reaches behind her back and pulls a small white kitten from a pouch. Holding it directly to her face, she engages it with a viciously silky voice. "We got an issue here. The kid's awak-." She stops as the lights in the hall hum and flicker. "Hello? Come in! _Dammit_!" Scowling with rage, she throws the kitten down the hall where it mews loudly before colliding with an object of some sort, then silence. She jams her finger accusingly at Naota. "That _brat _is jamming the signal!"

All three glare daggers at the brooding figure, but only one steps forward. "You little _shit,_I'll carry you out in matchboxes!" With a primal shriek she ducks and rushes towards Naota's stationary form. Her Rickenbacker is clutched with white knuckles behind her back, furiously prepared to strike.

Naota remains unmoved, but the area around him grows hazy, like the air over pavement on a hot day. A breeze emanates from his feet, kicking dust and rubble outward. A chilling sense of foreboding clutches the hearts of the observers. All eyes are now on the pinkhaired banshee, who has crossed the hall rapidly. She swings her guitar above her head with both hands to deliver a mighty blow—but it never lands. With a resounding "whump," the young man ignites. A red flame bursts from the head down, enveloping his shadowed, grinning form.

It happens in a motion almost too fast for the eye to catch. With a counterclockwise twirl, he strikes against the impending enemy with his simple guitar. The acoustic collides with the side of the commando's head, busting it open like a ripe melon. Blood, skull chunks, and brain matter burst and splatter an arc against the opposing wall. The lifeless body follows soon after, colliding with a crack and shattering its integrity.

A collective gasp echoes in the hall as the corpse slumps to the floor with the sickening "thump." The two remaining GSPB commandoes step back with shock and the infant stirrings of fear. Amarao's eyes widen and his eyebrows twitch spastically as thoughts of escape bounce around in his mind. To his left Canti stands impassively, not phased in the least by the sudden turn of events. However further down Kitsurubami's knees grow weak and her legs buckle. She quickly averts her gaze from the horrific sight, covering her mouth and barely containing a surge of vomit from entering her throat.

Naota continues to burn away, standing at perfect ease. His gaze directs from the lifeless cadaver at his feet to the two remaining threats. He moves to approach them slowly and deliberately, sadistic grin still in place—much like a demented carnival clown. His steps are light, with a near floating effect.

Naota comes to a stop just out of swinging range, peering at them with motionless malevolence. One Haruko-esque soldier cowers in the corner with her back to the wall, shuddering with eyes wide and fearful. The second moves to attack with a wild frenzy born of desperation. "Die die die die _die_!" Strike, strike, strike, strike, strike. Each assault connects with Naota, who makes no move in defense or offense. He seems completely unfazed by the collisions raining upon him, and bits and pieces of the Rickenbacker are chipped away with each one. Finally a blow connects with his head, which tilts with the force of it.

The commando holds the position, silently hopeful that she finally succeeded in inflicting damage. Her hopes are then dashed when Naota grasps the base of the guitar with his empty hand. Suddenly, the entire weapon ignites in red flame. The pinkhaired warrior immediately drops it to the floor with a cry of shock and pain, where it almost instantly becomes a pile of ash. Naota wastes no time in his counter attack, pinning his opponent to the wall with a single well placed blow with the acoustic. He then silences her cries for mercy and agony with a strike to the throat, twisting her trachea inside out and turning them into strangled gasps for air. Blow after deliberate blow connects with the women, shattering bones and rupturing innards. Finally, with a roar of rage Naota swings the Fender one last time against her torso. The guitar shatters into a thousand pieces with the force of the collision, which in turn rip his opponent to shreds. Naota then drops the useless guitar neck to the floor and turns to the final enemy.

The last commando cowers and shivers in the corner, eyes wide and terror-stricken. Her guitar lays forgotten at her feet. However, as she makes eye contact with the fiery demon, her entire demeanor changes. With an instant change in tactics, she stands straight and her lips curl into a seductive smile. Her eyes sparkle with inviting mischief as she slowly, but confidently, approaches the engine of destruction before her. Naota stands stoic and unmoving while she wraps an arm around his neck and gently rubs her opposing leg gently up and down his thigh. Her voice is silky and hauntingly familiar to his ears.

"Aww…now you don't want to kill little ol' me now do you?" she purrs into his ear. "We could have so much fun together…you and me."

_"Oh right, I'm already in that kind of relationship with Ta-kun here!"_

She grazes the tip of her finger daintily down the bridge of his nose, chin, and chest. In response, Naota's flames die to a crimson glow. "What do you say hmm? I could help you, you know. In so _many _ways. There's a whole universe out there that you've never seen." She grins wickedly. "With your power, it could all be yours."

_"__Oooh__ Ta-kun, my first kiss!"_

"Your name is Naota right?" She whispers heatedly in his ear. "Would it be too forward of me to call you…Ta-kun?"

_"You know what? Save it for next time Ta-kun, __cuz__' you're still just a kid."_

With a roar of rage Naota ignites again, searing the temptress' skin in an instant. Through the rushing torrents of power, through the fog of his drug addled mind, random snippets of thought float to the surface and whip him into a frenzy. They're all the same! Wasn't she unique? Wasn't that what they were fighting for? But they're all the same! They're all trying to use him! Tasuke…!

_"…nobody calls me Ta-kun!"_

The trio of would-be rescuers watch silently and wide-eyed as the spectacle unfolds before them. The final commando drops to her knees, sobbing and crying out in pain as smoke billows from her burns. Her cries fall on deaf ears however, as Naota gives out a another roar and the flames increase in intensity. Naota delivers a swift and brutal kick to her jaw, lodging it in the braincase and killing her instantly. Memories bubble to the surface, fueling the fire. Continuing his cries of rage and sadness, Naota grasps the corpse by its misshapen head—igniting its entirety. With a swing and a mighty toss, the flaming chunk of meat flies down the hall. Thinking quick, Canti grasps his companions by their heads and shoves them to the floor, narrowly dodging a fiery death.

From the floor all three watch on in silent awe as Naota cuts loose on the corridor. With no more enemies within immediate sight, the demonic creature unleashes its frustration on the reinforced wall. Pounding and shouting with a disembodied and tortured voice, he chips away at the wall with the force of years of oppression. He turns to another wall, kicking and punching with an unnatural intensity, and another. Rubble begins to drop and pile, some from cracks forming in the ceiling. Back and forth like a raging demon from hell with no rhyme or reason to its mad thrashing.

"We have have to stop him! He's going to bring the whole building down on top of us!" Amarao shouts over the noise, hands clasped over his head protectively.

"How?! I think this is more than a tranq gun fix!" Kitsurubami screams back.

"I don't know!"

"This was _your _idea!"

"It wasn't a very good one!"

"You _think_?!"

And with that an explosion rocks the corridor. A beam of sunlight bursts into the darkened space. Naota had inadvertently opened an exit. With a final mournful sound, he collapses and drapes over the new hole, entirely spent. The flames die to embers, and eventually dissipate completely. All that is left of the chaos is a broken and unconscious young man. The trio shakily and warily drag themselves up to their feet. No one makes a sound.

Finally, the commander breaks the silence. "Canti: pick him up. Kitsurubami: the guitar. The truck's just right outside, we'll start medicating him there."

They all go about their tasks silently, but with heavy hearts and minds.

**Chapter 3: To be? Or not to be?**

"Alright, cut the feed there."

Amarao stands with his hands placed flat and firm on his desk in the central control room of DII Surveillance. Towards the back of the room Kitsurubami stands with her hands grasped firmly on the wheelchair in front of her, her face ashen and eyes averted. Naota sits upright with a grim face and hands draped over his armrests. All around them loyal personnel in blue uniforms buzz about at their desks performing a multitude of tasks.

Amarao turns to face his two companions. "I don't think I need to explain to you what's happened here."

Naota replies emotionlessly. "But the question is how did I tap into Atomsk's power when he isn't here anymore? Not only that, but I didn't need Canti at all."

"Yeah well we've all come up with a possible explanation for all that. We believe that you've matured out of the need for Canti's assistance in channeling your N.O. Up until now you've required either activation by an experienced practitioner—aka Raharu, who essentially hijacked it, or the aid of Canti's kinetic mainframe to boost your already impressive N.O.—where you retain significantly more control of it. Now through natural maturation and R&D's programming you've reached an unprecedented, if dangerous, peak in N.O. It really doesn't matter where in the universe Atomsk may be hiding, you seem to have the ability to pluck him right out of the cosmos, or send him right back. Your N.O. works both ways. It's spectacular; R&D really had no idea what they had." Seeing the beginnings of a scowl crossing Naota's face, Amarao waves his hands frantically in a calming gesture and laughs nervously. "Ah ha ha ha, no disrespect meant of course…please don't send me to the sun."

"I doubt I could even if I wanted to."

The commander smiles mischievously. "Ah well that's just not true. It's all hypothetical, but with a little practice you could be spelling your name in the sky with other planets. It's a horrific power. The only advice we can give you at this time is what we've managed to scrounge up from R&D's and the GSPB's accumulated information. With a clear enough picture of the desired object in your mind, you should be able o feel the ability to grab and pull it, and vice versa—like a third hand. For you size is no issue, you're on a level of physics where mass and proportion hold no meaning.

Naota shut his eyes, he could feel it in the back of his mind, like a sleeping dragon. It did in fact feel like a disproportionately powerful phantom limb. An odd thought crosses his mind. "What if I pulled myself through?"

Amarao winces, "I wouldn't suggest trying it. Just be…careful of what you're thinking as best you can, alright?" He moves to take a bite of a glazed pastry.

The wheelchair bound young man nods solemnly. "Where is Canti now?"

Amrao's massive eyebrows perk up and he's swallows a mouth full of bread. "In the kitchen making me more of these delicious sweet rolls."

Suddenly a female voice in the crowd of uniformed workers cries out. "They aren't just for you, you know!"

The Commander Amarao wheels around in anger, fists shaking at his side. "Insubordination! Who said that?!"

Another voice, this one male, yells out elsewhere. "Why does everything around here have to be sweet? Why can't we make the robot bake curry bread?"

"I will not tolerate the presence of spicy, sour, or pulpy foods on these grounds! Sweets keep the head straight! You all _know_ that!"

"You're loony!"

The Commander scowls and jabs his finger accusingly, head whipping around the room to find dissenters. "That's it! If anyone else has anything else to say about how I run my ship, heads are going to roll! How about it!?! Huh? Huh?!" Silence reigns while the crowd shifts sheepishly. Grinning smugly, he readjusts a loosened nori eyebrow and turns back to Naota and Kitsurubami."Right, any other questions?"

Naota purses his lips for a moment, then asks "What comes next?"

And now Kitsurubami pipes up with a pleasant smile. "I'll answer that." She starts to wheel him out of the room. "Next all the crippled demi-gods in the room go to their scheduled physical therapy sessions."

Horror strikes his features. "Sweet jesus NO!" He starts flapping his arms in protest. "Not that…that torture artist!"

She pats his head to soothe him and chastises him good-naturedly. "Now now. Nurse Aoki is the best in the field at what she does and has nothing but kindness in her heart for you."

Naota crosses his arms in a childish pout. "She's a sadistic hag! What about that weird laugh she does every time I fall?!"

"She's just trying to keep the mood light." It seemed to be a perfectly reasonable explanation to the young Lieutenant. She takes a right turn down another hall.

Naota was not convinced. "She's sick and abusive. You said yourself she used to work in the interrogation department!"

Kitsurubami lifts a finger to respond, but pauses in mid-motion. He had a point—a good one. "It doesn't matter if it hurts or not, you have to do it if you ever want to get out of the chair."

"Don't change the subject! That has nothing to do with this!"

"It has everything to do with it. You can't just get up and go whenever you want when your muscles are in atrophy; you have to work for it." She pokes him repeatedly in the back of the head. "Even Uma Thurman had to work to get that back."

"Whatever! It took her like, ten seconds!"

"It was a plot device! Months went by between scenes!"

"She just sat in the truck and wiggled her toes!"

"Just enough so that she could drive!"

"Well why can't I drive yet?!"

"You never learned how in the first place!"

"Yeah well….what are we arguing about?!"

"I don't know!"

"Well neither do I!"

"Ok!"

"_Fine_!" And with that both clam up.

Naota's arms remained crossed and Kitsurubami stomps behind him, making no effort to make his ride a comfortable one. Such exchanges have become frequent between the two. Ranging from the coolest style of martial arts (Kitsurubami being the only one between them with any actual experience in it) to debating the superiority of ninjas over pirates (of which Naota still insists that at the end of the day, the Ninja will just kill the Pirate while they sleep.). Neither truly get upset during the process, and both secretly wonder if the other enjoys them as much as they do.

Kitsurubami suddenly remembers the original discussion and decides to press her point one more time. "Besides, you don't really want me wheeling you around forever now do you?" She brings her erratic pushing to a more peaceful glide as they finally pull into their destination.

Naota doesn't answer, he finds that the question isn't as simple as it seemed.

* * *

_Author's Note: And another chapter comes to a close. I apologize for the later that usual posting, and slightly shorter length. I'm visiting Chicago right now, so my time isn't as free as usual. It's one of my favorite towns. I never miss a chance to see the Contemporary Art Museum. The current exhibits were a strange combination of all my favorite fields of study--I'm ahead of my curve artistically, just like my parents have always been. It's a good feeling, really inspires me to work more. _

_But don't __worry,__ I won't cut into my __fanfiction__ writing time._

_Anyway, I hope you guys were satisfied with the "fighting" at the beginning of the chapter. When I write violence, it tends to be…violent. I find myself having to tone the detail and graphic imagery down, for fear of striking people as psychotic._

_If the shoe fits?_

_Fun fact: A teacher of mine once told me that __I,__ and I quote: "write like an asshole." We both laughed. It's not something I didn't already know, but it was funny to hear at the time. Whenever I write in the first person, I always sound like a prick and it can't be helped. I'm really not this aggravating in real life, I insist._

_I'm just digging myself into a hole aren't I?_

_Christ!_

_Anyway, reviewer response time._

_Azure dream: I love that song__. The Pillows are just awesome. Soundtracks are a secret part of my life that most people don't know I love. It's a genre of music far apart from what I'm known to listen to. Can't be helped though, just brings back too many good memories, but do you ever get a little sad when you're listening to it? Like the good times are behind you? I get that __kinda__-sad nostalgic feeling. Also, the longer the reviews, the happier I am, so no problem at all.__ See you next chapter._

_Impact-megaton: I'm happy to hear you like it! I'm surprised by how much I enjoy writing characters other than Naota, who I thought would be the focus. So far, __Amarao__ has been getting a good share of face time, he's fun._

_Miles 'Tag' Underwood: Yeah, what little I saw of __Kitsurubami's__ character in the show I fell in love with. It's my sad fate to attach to minor characters. I think __Naota's__ dark wit pairs well with her cheery but violent demeanor._

_Shadowsin__Well thanks for your support. I'll try not to be so stressed about it. Yeah, __NaotaxKitsurubami__ is a lot of fun, for the same reasons I told Miles. I'm happy to hear you'll be sticking with it, I won't let you down._


	5. Chapter 4: Are You a Dog Person? Or a

**Disclaimer: FLCL and all associated ideas, characters, and images are the property of ****Gainax**** and Production I.G. All use on my part of the aforementioned is purely for ****entertainment purposes only and result**** in no profit on my part. I will not delay in removing this story should the property's owners request it.**

**FOOLY COOLY DUO**

"What is it?" Naota queries in his typical monotone. Below him, mostly hidden by a conveniently placed shadow, is a messy pile of unrecognizable blob. He doesn't shift his gaze to Kitsurubami or Amarao on either side of him.

"It's the deadest corpse I have ever seen." Kitsurubami offers, quietly pleased that she couldn't get a decent look at the puddle in the darkened corridor.

Amarao, handguns still in hand, readjusts his sunglasses and explains. "It _was _a spy, a human spy to be exact." Behind him countless men with guns in suits and glasses nod in agreement, barrels still smoking.

"How did he get like this?"

Every head in the rooms turns to look at its neighbors, perplexed. Furiously indignant, Amarao waves his guns and yells "You can't be serious! You didn't just see that?!"

"I dozed off! All I remember was all these jackasses coming out of the woodworks and then the world exploding." Naota winces with the recent memory, clutching his aching head.

The suits all nod again in tandem, they did indeed pour out of every orifice the building has to offer. They're trained to do so with just the merest signal from their commander.

Amarao happily explains the situation for the spectators. "I've suspected this one for quite some time, but earlier I caught him communicating with HQ. I followed him here afterwards; he obviously planned something for you, Naota." The commander tucks his handguns back into his jacket and scratches the back of his head. "I wonder what exactly that plan was…."

"Well we'll never know _now_!" Naota jabs his finger at the source of attention angrily, "He's tomato paste! He was…was…"

"…struck down with the mighty hammer of Surveillance Branch!" Kitsurubami couldn't contain her pent up excitement after seeing such a spectacle of gunplay. She poses ridiculously and fires her fingers around, simulating the gundown. "Pow. Pow. Krchow!" After a moment she realizes all eyes in the room are on her. She shrinks down and blushes with shame.

Amarao eyebrows raise during Kitsurubami's outburst and he waits for her to finish before speaking again. "Right. Well this only solidifies something I've been considering for some time now. So it's as good a time as any to give you the lowdown." He takes a moment to let the drama sink in. "Headquarter's knowledge of this facility and its workings is too extensive. It's no longer safe for Naota to stay here."

His companions snap their heads away from the corpse, obviously shocked. Kitsurubami is the first to speak. "But sir! This is the only secure location on the planet that's under our control, where could we possibly take him?" Worry creases her brow and bleeds into her eyes.

"That's actually not quite true. There is another location under our control. Its miles away from here and someplace where he would be free to roam city streets again without fear of enemy notice." The commander glances at the young man in question and his face pales at the deathly glare he's receiving. He rubs the back of his head and laughs nervously, "Hah, well free to roam anywhere that's wheelchair accessible that is."

"I hate you." The youth spares no mercy.

Amarao slumps and manages to squeak out. "Yeah...I know." He expected none.

Kitsurubami watches on with arms crossed, growing annoyed. "So where exactly is this magical paradise Commander?""

At the prospect of the subject resuming again, Amarao's face brightens. "Oh well you should know better than anyone here Kitsurubami," he grins wickedly. "It's the third largest armory in the country after all."

At this Kitsurubami seems perplexed. She pauses to look at the floor and think. After a moment she looks up again, still confused. "But sir my _apartment_ is the third largest….oh dear _god_." Her face is the picture of shock and outrage. Fists whip to their sides, as if to better project the cry of rage to come. "Commander Amarao you can't _possibly_ be serious!"

Her superior waves his hands in a futile attempt to calm her fury. "Now, now Lieutenant, desperate times call for desperate, if unorthodox, methods. The facts are that no faction could ever suspect us to return him to the city, nor house him in your apartment."

Kitsurubami was not convinced, in fact, she was still fuming. Below her, Naota stews for similar reasons, as well annoyance for being left out of the discussion entirely.

Amarao starts to sweat, but continues nonetheless. "Listen, your home is as secure as any military fallout shelter, is easily defensible, has multiple emergency exit points, and more combined weaponry than god's army. It has zero military presence and thus doesn't draw any attention from orbital surveillance. It's the fact it isn't a secret that makes it so perfect! I mean, you can look it up in the employee directory for Christ's sake! We would be idiots to hide him there, it holds no significance at all, and that's why it's perfect." He finishes his spiel with a shaky grin, trying to judge their reaction.

They both glare daggers at him, but Kitsurubami speaks first. "Naota's right. I hate you too." No significance! How dare he?! It's significant to me!

The Commander falls to the floor, exasperated. When he finally speaks, it's into the tile, muffled. "Regardless of your opinions, this is a direct order from a superior officer in a time of war. A chair's been strapped to the top of your Polski Fiat, and the kid should be walking again soon anyway. I order you to escort your charge to your domicile discreetly and immediately."

"But _sir_! An unmarried and uninvolved man and woman living under the same roof? It's completely inappropriate! It's scandalous! It's…it's…"

"…a plot line for a ridiculous love comedy." Naota chimes in darkly.

"Exactly! Wait, a what comedy?"

"_Enough_!" Amarao roars into the floor, his patience spent. "You've been given a direct order _Lieutenant, _and any further argument will be considered grounds for treason! Now GO!" He jabs his finger down the hall to emphasize his point."

Mouths agape, they both appear ready to argue the point more, but simultaneous give in to their fate. The pair roll away in defeat, embarrassed and thoroughly upset at the sudden change of status quo. Kitsurubami, feeling rebellious, wastes little time in breaking the silence. She whispers into Naota's ear. "He's full of shit you know, he wouldn't try me for _littering_, let alone treason."

"I _heard _that!"

Before Kitsurubami can retort, Naota beats her to the punch. He turns his head and roars back down the corridor. "I heard they have an opening for a Commander at the bottom of the Pacific! Care to give it a look?!" He receives silence in return as he settles back into his chair.

Kitsurubami smiles in appreciation. Even if he can't see it, he knows it's there. "He's afraid of you, you know."

"I like to call it respect." He waves his hand dismissively.

"Call it what you like, whatever it is, you've got a lot of it."

Naota snorts. "I'll take that as a compliment." Not feeling entirely comfortable being the topic of the conversation he decides to turn the tables. "So when's the last time you've actually _been_ home?"

She lifts a finger to her chin and takes a second to close her eyes and ponder. "About two weeks ago, you were sleeping and I needed to pick some things up and clean." She pauses to consider this. "Wow that seems like a long time."

"Yeah it is, workaholic much?"

She laughs and socks him lightly upside the head. "It can't be helped, you're a 24 hour job!"

Naota crosses his arms and feigns a scowl. "Well I'm sorry I'm such a burden."

His companion grins mischievously and guides her charge around a corner into a better lit hallway, windowless doors on both sides. She reaches down and pinches his cheek, cackling with satisfaction as he flops up and down in discomfort and surprise. "Aww don't be that way Mr. frumpy face."

"Gahhh ok! Ok! Ok!" When the young man is finally freed from her torturous grasp, he rubs his sore cheek. After a moment, Naota decides to voice a justification that he'd been working on in his head. "You know, it won't be _that_ awkward." He blushes, obviously nervous of finishing the thought. "I mean, we've been sleeping in the same room for a long time now." Gah! Poorly phrased!

Kitsurubami rubs the back of her head bashfully, too on-the-spot to comfortably tease him for his statements. "That's not what I'm worried about. It's just that my home isn't really…_normal_. I've never had a guest before." Catching the confused look on Naota's face from the side, she still finds herself unable to voice her reservations. "It's well…like…you'll see."

She slumps in defeat, and both remain comfortably quiet for most of the trip. As they approach the main doors of the complex however, Kitsurubami puts a voice to some questions she's been having over the whole event.

"Naota?"

"Yes?"

"You do know what city I live in right?"

"I have a good guess."

"Does that make you nervous?"

Naota mulls this over. It's been such a very, very long time. It seems a lifetime has passed since he last walked those streets, sat beneath its bridges. His old life had been left to rot by that vending machine, has any part of it survived all this time? Should he be nervous? What could possibly be in store for him when he goes back? Back to his hometown. Back to…

Mabase.

The doors swing wide open.

And he is blinded by the light.

**Are You a Dog Person? ****Or a Cat Person?**

Naota has little trouble climbing into the passenger side seat, even without Kitsurubami's aid. While she busies herself with the straps holding another wheelchair to the top of the vehicle, he manages to stand with the aid of the door and stagger his way inside. Pleased with the condition of the ropes, Kitsurubami shuts the passenger side door and with her hands on her hips she examines her handiwork. Satisfied, she takes a look at the old wheelchair and grins. With a swift, well aimed kick the chair flies across the parking lot. She doesn't even bother to watch it collide with Amarao's cheesy black Cadillac, but a crunch and a bang tell her the damage was satisfactory.

Kitsurubami slams her door shut beside her and places the keys in the ignition. She turns to her companion and smirks. "That'll teach the bastard to stop putting us in increasingly uncomfortable situations."

Naota's face doesn't betray his feelings of the event either way. "It might just further incur his wrath."

The Lieutenant's smirk grows into a mischievous grin as she starts the car. "Well if it's war he wants, he's sending us to the wrong place." She giggles with mirth at his perplexed reaction, but her insides are cold with dread. What's he going to think of me when he sees? And on that note she starts the car and whips out of her reserved parking space with an expert yank of the wheel.

In a matter of minutes the DII building that had been Naota's home for the weeks since his rescue becomes a dot on the horizon. He resists the temptation to turn around and watch it fade into the distance, settling instead for laying his head against the window and saying his silent goodbyes to the rearview mirror. His insides twist with a silent fear and sadness at the loss of his refuge and he attempts to suppress a shudder.

However Kitsurubami's keen soldier eyes do not fail to spot his movement nor his gaze. In a strange way it makes her feel more comfortable that he is just as miserable with the new arrangements as she is, even if it is for different reasons. Misery loves company, she supposes. In hopes of taking his mind off his brooding, she lifts a hand from the wheel and lightly brushes his hospital gown at the shoulder. "We need to start thinking about getting you some new clothes."

Naota jumps at the sudden contact but is quick with an indignant retort. "Me? Blue cotton man-gowns are all the rage this season. What about you? Don't you ever wear anything other than that ridiculous uniform?!" He wasn't expecting her reaction.

Her eyes widen and she blinks several times in surprise. She faces the road again and ponders the question for a moment before answering. "No. No I don't." They share a minute of uncomfortable silence while she nervously plays with her tie. "Do you really think I look ridiculous?"

Naota panics and his blood runs cold with guilt and self loathing. "No! Not at all! I was just joking!" He takes a moment, almost instinctively, to study his caretaker. Naota can't help but silently marvel as the sun cascades off her honey-blonde locks. His eyes trail her over her bright brown eyes, cute nose, and full, pursed lips. Her tan complexion is beautiful even in the face of the introspective worry that creases her brow. The offending uniform itself even, only serves to accentuate feminine curves. Naota yanks his gaze away and barely whispers "That's not what I think at all."

The beautiful lieutenant's change in demeanor is both miraculous and instantaneous. She breaks into an award-winning smile and brings both her hands to her face, striking her best covergirl pose. "I knew it, you can't resist me! I should have seen it earlier." She sighs dramatically. "I'm such a fool."

Naota rears back against his window, he couldn't have been more shocked if she had struck him. "As _if!_" Flushed with embarrassment, his eyes drift to the road as the car shifts into the other lane. He panics and jabs his finger against the windshield repeatedly. "Get your hands back on the wheel you lunatic!"

She slowly turns her head back towards the road as they come to the crest of a hill. "Oh calm down Naota this highway is des- _yeeeek_!" Suddenly their entire field of vision is filled with eight tons of honking semi truck. Naota acts without thinking, diving for the wheel and yanking them back into their lane, throwing them momentarily onto two wheels. It's a close call, rushing winds and blaring horn shake the tiny vehicle to its axles, but they survive. For a time neither moves an inch. Naota still clings white-knuckled to the wheel, eyes wide and teeth gnashing. Surprising to both however, is Kitsurubami clinging similarly to Naota. With arms wrapped around his chest and waist and face pressed against his, she also stays motionless with bugging eyes. Seconds go by before either realizes, but when they do, they burst apart like a grenade goes off between them.

After a moment of heavy breathing, Naota settles back into his seat. He remains tense and wide eyed however, and when he speaks it's only in a whisper. "We almost died."

Kitsurubami keeps one hand firmly on the wheel and uses the other to readjust her stray hairs and eschew beret. Still flushed from the close proximity with her companion she struggles for an answer. "Oh it wouldn't have been _that _bad." Apparently her sense of humor didn't suffer any damage.

Naota is incredulous. "Not that bad?! We were almost another statistic! Death by head-on collision!" By this point the young man is shaking.

The Lieutenant on the other hand, was already beginning to regain her composure, and she gives Naota a shaky smile. "That guy have been the one scared!" She raps her knuckles against the top of the vehicle. "My baby here is the product of solid Polish engineering! It would have cut through that shoddy aluminum like a hot knife through butter!"

"Good god woman! We step out into the world for twelve seconds and you start picking fights with semi-trucks!?"

Her shaky smile becomes a self satisfied smirk. She eases further into her seat, the near-death experience already fading into nothing more than a memory. "I don't pick fights I can't win. If worst came to worst, you could have just sent that truck to the moon anyway right?"

Naota whacks himself in the head. "Oh of _course!_Why didn't I do that instead of steering us out of harm's way?" His eyes narrow. "Oh _yeah_, because it would have come crashing through the windshield, showering us with razor sharp glass at roughly the speed of sound!" Naota's voice starts to raise and he spreads his hands out to emphasize his point. "Ooh! And that's _before _I miraculously leap in front of you and shove thing into my forehead without you getting hit!"

Kitsurubami's smile softens, and turns her head back to the road. "You'd jump in front of a truck for me Naota?" She intentionally adjusts her tone to seem especially adorable.

Whatever the next words in her companion's rant were, they die in his throat. Naota's cheeks burn as if every drop of blood has been sent to them. Breaking out into a sweat he clambers as far back as his seatbelt allows. "Ah well. I don't…I mean…" He rubs the back of his head nervously and barely stutters out "I…I _guess _you could interpret it that way..."

She doesn't answer, settling instead with concentrating on the road but beaming with silent appreciation. Naota watches on, transfixed by the young woman's smiling lips, bright eyes, and cute collection of freckles. For a woman that smiles so often, he can't help but appreciate every single one of them. Even if they are at his expense. Suddenly, her voice breaks his thoughts.

"Hey Naota."

"Mmhm?"

"We're here."

And so they were. They crested one last final hill of rolling fields and empty road and the city was spread before them. Homes, businesses, and winding rivers crossed by stone bridges all wrapped around one large hill over which sat the ruins of a giant iron. He could already begin to smell it, the scent of complacency that permeates the town like a constant fog. He could already start to make out the shapes of its inhabitants. Children who wish to be adults and adults who act like children. A town where no one knows their place, only knowing that they are perpetually unsatisfied with what they have at the moment.

Yes, it was at that moment that Naota realizes that he wasn't comfortable at all coming home. He crosses his arms and shuts his eyes, as if doing so would make the scene before him disappear.

"Drive fast."

* * *

_And another chapter comes to a close.__ Wait, so is that like the thing I do now at the end of each chapter? Couldn't I have spent a little time coming up with a better line? I'm disappointed in myself. Is this inane inner dialogue striking you guys as asinine and cheesy as it does me?__ I mean it could be worse, I could be having some shitty and overdone conversation with one of the characters from the series I'm fan-__ficcing.__ Yeah, I'll stop__ this now_

_Maybe I'll try something new next time. "See you space cowboy." Yeah I like that one, let's stick with that. I thought of it all by myself. Really I did!_

_Chicago was great, one of my top U.S. cities__. Thanks for the patience on getting this chapter out. I'll be starting college here at the end of August, hopefully that won't cut into my writing time huh? I shouldn't think so, I mean, sleep is for the weak. Who needs rest when you can live on a diet of ginseng and exercise induced adrenaline? Am I right?!_

_Is Fan-__ficcing__ a word?_

_Metal Gear Solid 3 OST, good stuff._

_Right, reviewer response time._

_Shadowsin__: Glad to hear you got a chuckle out of it. I'm even __more glad__ to hear instances where my actions put the integrity of someone else's personal property in danger. To destroy from a distance, must be what god feels like. It's great that __your__ enjoying yourself, I hope you continue to read. And yes, its past midnight and I haven't eaten for over six hours—some sweet rolls would be great._

_Azure dream: It's good to hear you're starting to like my __offkey__ pairing decision. I don't know __what disease I have in my brain that encourages them, but it's one I can live with. After reading your comment I whacked myself in the head. You hit the nail right on the head, that's exactly why I kept reworking the fight scene and couldn't get satisfied with it. It just wasn't a __fooly__ or __cooly__. I'll definitely remember that when the next battle cometh. Yeah, I've been learning to play on a Fender Acoustic for awhile now__. Ultimately I end up disappointed whenever I practice because I crave something I can rock out on. Any classic riffs I play were always originally meant to __played__ on bass. So, I suppose having the acoustic shatter was a symbol of my own frustrations with the instrument. But my time is coming, I'll pick up something more appropriate for me when I move in and I'll have all the practice I've had up until this point. That you do the silhouette pose is way too cool (aka dorky to normal people). I try anything similar with the acoustic and I look like El Ka-bong. Yeah, Chicago was awesome, like I said earlier. __I starve for civilization every once and awhile, even though it's full of __. Sorry to write you a book instead of a review response, __heh__. I see you write teen titans and final fantasy VII __fanfiction__, I'll have to read your stuff! I've been out of teen titans for awhile but I was really into it for quite some time. And final fantasy VII, of course, is classic. You haven't by chance played FFVI have you?_

_Miles 'Tag' Underwood: __Heh__, yeah she's great. I really wish there was more merchandise with her as the focus. I've seen a wall scroll where she's in a pretty great pose in the __backround__. Another one has her in her combat gear sitting on her car alongside __haruko__ behind a gun-toting Naota. Both are ok images, even though I wish she was in the for__e__front. But honestly, I'm not big on fabric wall scrolls anyway. __I prefer paper posters, which might as well not exist in the anime world. Oh well, good luck fulfilling your impossible wheelchair fantasy, and see you next chapter!_


End file.
